


always

by jelly_tyson



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Sex, F/M, First Time, Touch-Starved, lots of feelings, nothing about this is canon, porn without plot? maybe, really all the good shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 16:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly_tyson/pseuds/jelly_tyson
Summary: “Brienne,” Jaime managed. “What do you want?”“You,” she breathed.





	always

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning in advance, I will not pretend any of this is canon, except that Jaime has no hand and Harrenhal definitely happened. 
> 
> I fell head-over-heels in love with Brienne of Tarth a few months ago and have since been swept into this world of mutual respect, spite, bickering, angst, love, and these two tall, blonde human disasters. The idea for this fic came out of nowhere and I just decided to run with it. This is also my first fic in six years (and the longest one I've ever written?) so if that doesn't tell you how in love with these two characters I am, I don't know what else does.
> 
> Thanks to GRRM for letting me borrow these characters for a little while - I've enjoyed every second of them tearing at my heartstrings.
> 
> Gold stars to those who can figured out what inspired this fic.

The rain was cold on her back as she sat alone outside the keep. Brienne turned her head upwards, letting the rain wash away some of the mud still clinging to her forehead. Memories of the day flowed freely in her mind as she stared upward.

 

\----

 

He’d stared her down when she’d met him alone near the cliffs. Cold, unforgiving eyes meeting the fire in hers.

“You honestly think you’re getting out of this fight alive, woman?” The mercenary growled.

“One of us is.”

Brienne lunged at him then, recklessly. Too recklessly. She hadn’t told anyone she was going after the man that murdered her king – this vengeance was hers and hers alone to have. She’d heard that he was traveling with a small group of misfits just hours from her, Podrick tried to assure her he’d only seen a glance of the iron helmet and couldn’t say for certain it was the same helmet from that day, but Brienne’s stomach had been in knots all day and this had to have been the reason. She had felt his presence nearby and knew this was her only chance to avenge Renly’s death and finally, _finally_ quell the anger that had plagued her for years. _Only when he’s dead will I rest_ , she had told herself. Only then.

The mercenary was trained and strong, and her combat skills were clouded with blind rage. Brienne wasn’t a stranger to the raw emotions of a fight, but hatred weakened her blows. The man’s eyes were dark and he smiled as iron clashed with steel, her parries no match for his strength. He tangled the hilt of her blade in his mace and tossed both weapons aside, savoring the idea of beating her with just his hands. Brienne raised a fist towards his face but the mercenary landed a punch to her midsection and Brienne fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

The man laughed above her. His eyes were dark as he spoke.

“Your precious Renly died just like this. Helpless and alone.”

She lunged again, aiming for his knees, but he met her attack and kicked her to the ground with a single blow. Brienne tumbled away from him towards the edge of the cliff she spat out a mouthful of blood. Her breathing was labored and she knew at least one rib had to be broken – _why had she gone here without her armor_?

“I should kill you now,” he growled, his boot pressed into her stomach and he held her own blade next to her neck. “But that would be too easy.”

He gave a final shove with his boot and Brienne tumbled over the ledge. She slid down a cliff for a few seconds, gaining speed. Her hands grasped at the few branches and rocks, trying desperately to stop rolling, branches and grasses ripping from the ground as she approached the ledge. Brienne’s feet and knees left the ground below her and she barely caught a tree root before the rest of her body dangled from the edge of the rocky cliff. The root shifted farther from the ground beneath and Brienne swore as she clung to it, fifty feet above the rocky river. She heard laughter and a thundering of horses in the distance.

No. _No_. The root shifted again as she tried to pull herself up. Please, _please not this way_.

“Jaime!” Brienne shouted. Her last thoughts were not going to be of a tiny branch or a rocky river, her last thoughts were of him.

“Jaime!” She shouted again, desperate and afraid, hoping he was just stupid enough to have gone after her. The root shifted under her again and Brienne closed her eyes. _Jaime_.

“Brienne!”

Jaime.

“Brienne,” The voice called out again, stronger this time. Closer. “Brienne, hold on!”

“Jaime. Over here! _Jaime_ – ” She heard rocks shifting as he slid down the hills above, footsteps coming closer now. Her hand slipped from the root just seconds before she felt one grab her.

Only not one – _two_.

Two hands pulled her to safety, quickly helped by four more.

Her breathing was labored and tears were in her eyes as she knelt near the edge of the cliff. “Jaime,” she looked towards to the men who saved her.

Podrick’s eyes met hers, quiet and scared. A few behind him, too, but Podrick was the only one close enough to recognize. He must’ve known she’d do something stupid and gone in search of her. He disobeyed an order too – she was going to kill him for that.

“No, my lady,” He replied.

 

\----

 

A clap of thunder momentarily brought her back to the cold bench. Podrick had found her somehow. She’s not entirely sure of what happened next. A scolding, certainly, filled with curses from one of the other knights she’d learned to respect. Brienne couldn’t remember what was said or by whom.

“Piss off,” she’d said in response, throwing her cloak at his feet. It wasn’t technically a resignation from the guard, but she had no intentions of returning. She was sure he was shouting after her as she walked away. When she returned to her quarters she lay her sword on the bed and hung up her armor methodically, mindlessly arranging the heavy metal in the corner. She brushed the mud from her breeches, the blood and dirt from her face, and went back outside to let the rain wash off the rest.

A fog crept over the hills as Brienne made her way through the training yards and sat on a bench outside. The cold rain numbed her aching ribs and bruised hands. Only one thing was on her mind.

Only one thing ever was.

She took a deep breath and stood, turning back towards the castle.

 

\----

 

Four knocks.

Jaime adjusted the fire gently and reluctantly stood to open the door. Tyrion usually used six, in a pattern. Podrick a gentle two always followed by a “Ser,”. Four was unknown. He thought about putting his golden hand back on – just in case it was someone important – but found it useless. The day had been too long and Jaime didn’t have the patience for pretending. Brienne had gone _stupidly_ in search of that bloody mercenary and hadn’t returned. He figured she was probably lying dead in a field somewhere.

All his fault. He’d tried to stop her, tried in every way he knew how and then some, but she had tossed him aside like the useless old cripple he was and rode to her death.  

 

\----

 

“You can’t _do_ this – ” He pleaded as he watched her mount the horse. “You’ll be killed!”

“Since when have you ever cared about me being killed?” She spat back. Her mind was made up and she’d already shoved him off when he’d tried to physically stop her that morning. Twice. “Why are you even _doing_ this? Just let me go.”

Jaime stared at her and knew there was only one thing left that he could do.

“Because,” Stupid, bloody wench. “Because I love you!” He shouted. Anger punctuated every syllable and he’d wished he’d said it differently before – not like this. She said nothing, standing stoically near the horse, but at least she was looking at him now.

“You are the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, _frustrating_ person I’ve ever met,” He continued. “And I love you, wench. But if you go after him, we’re through.”

A beat passed. Two. Jaime stood before the horse, unflinching. His lips were pursed in a thin line and his eyes started into hers.  

“It’s my life,” she finally said. “Not yours. Goodbye, Ser Jaime.”

He watched as she rode away, not turning back.

 

\----

 

Four more knocks.

Whomever was on the other side of the door somehow had even less patience than he did tonight. He sighed and opened the door reluctantly.   

Brienne stood before him, hands at her side, and Jaime froze. She was drenched from the rain and without her armor – _had she gone out into the rain on purpose_? Her broad shoulders reflected in the firelight, but she seemed somehow smaller than Jaime was accustom to. Her eyes were red and a spot of purple was growing near her left eye.

He kept his feet firmly planted in the doorway and willed his knees to keep him upright. He stared at her, through her, still reeling from the morning’s events. “Brienne,” he managed. “What do you want?”

“You,” she breathed.

Suddenly her hands were on his face and her lips against his – warm and soft. He tensed and brought a hand to her shoulder, pulling her away from him. Why was she here? Did she – _what was going on_?

“I’m so sorry, Jaime” she whispered. She shifted her feet slightly. “I’m so sorry,” She kissed him again.

“What happened?” He asked as he broke away, hoping it sounded firmer than it felt.

Her head dropped slightly and their foreheads met. She relaxed in his arms only slightly, hands still holding his face close to hers.

“He got away,” she whispered. Jaime felt the warmth of her words on his jaw. “He got away, and I didn’t care,” _Was she crying?_ “I almost died, and all I could think about was you. I just want you.”

She leaned to him again, mouth open and wanting, hoping she could show him how she felt and not just tell, but he stood sentinel. Brienne wanted to apologize to him for leaving, for ignoring him, for everything. She wanted to shout at him for trying to limit her. She wanted to cry and scream and curse and yell, but words were never her strong suit. All she knew was that she was here, and he was here, and she needed him to know how she felt. She wasn’t even sure she could properly show him, she wasn’t experienced in this area, but his mouth had been so soft and so sad and Brienne just wanted more. She stared at his lips, wondering if they’d taste different now after her admission, if they were as chapped as hers, and found herself reaching for them.

Jaime’s heart was in his throat as he searched for her eyes, trying to understand _anything_ , but the minute her calloused thumb touched his lower lip his mind went blank. Fuck – this was _real_. This was Jaime and Brienne and nothing else. This was everything. She looked at him then, thumb still hovering just below his mouth, eyes filled with trepidation and… _hope_?

Jaime was done wasting time. His arms came to her hips and he took two large strides, pushing her backwards. Thunder clapped as her body met the cold wood and she couldn’t move – Jaime’s solid frame pinning against to the door.

His lips were on hers and his hand strong on her hips, pushing all of himself against her. He wedged a leg between hers and roamed his hand up and down her body – her strong thigh, bruised ribs, shoulders, arms, everything. She was here in front of him and he was going to savor it. He was going to make sure she knew that he meant what he’d said that morning and he was going to make damn sure she never left like that again.

He kissed her, his tongue parting her lips and he swore she sighed against him. She was inexperienced, sure, but her chapped lips were open and eager and there were low sounds resonating in the back of her throat as his tongue met hers. Her long arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. He palmed her breast over her tunic and kissed her again, a year’s worth of words passing from his lips.

Brienne tugged on the hair at the base of his neck as his mouth left hers. She held him to her as he kissed the scar on her cheek and the bruise on her jaw. Her head fell back involuntarily as his tongue trailed the long expanse of her neck and Jaime felt the vibrations of the moan that shook her. Later he would explore that in detail, but right now he just needed _more_. She could feel him sigh into the skin of her neck as her fingernails scraped gently across his face and the stubble that had developed. The scratches were a stark contrast to his soft kisses and she felt another wave of heat low in her belly.

He fumbled with the laces of her tunic, opening it just enough to reveal even more of the freckled, pale skin that he desperately wanted to taste. Not so pale anymore – the blood in her veins was boiling beneath and every inch of her was slightly rosy. Jaime peeled the tunic away slowly with his left hand, kissing every inch he discovered, but stopped suddenly when he reached her left collarbone.

_How could he have forgotten the scars?_

His breath was heavy as he stared at the deep white lines left by the bear. His mind was flooded with emotions – hatred, remorse, anger, grief, yearning – and he knew he was lingering too long, struck by the memory of their first dance with death. She’d been the one permanently marked by the bear, but that day had left him scarred as well, her name branded in his chest. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He almost lost her again today.

Brienne felt him stop moving and froze. _Of course he was disgusted_ , she thought. Tears welled in her eyes. _Who wouldn’t be?_ _This was all a horrible mistake_. She wanted to run, until –

Jaime kissed the scars gently, barely pressing his lips to them. She was alive, and in his arms. Brienne closed her eyes and a tear fell down her cheek. He moved the tunic farther off her shoulder and covered the scars with his stump. Her left hand rose to meet it and Jaime felt a lump in his throat as he turned his head upwards, searching for her eyes. He noticed the thin trail left by her tears, but only realized he too had been crying when her thumb brushed one away from his cheek.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around his stump and Jaime kissed her firmly, trapping the sobs in his throat. Her lips trembled against his and Jaime felt a pang in his chest unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He pressed three more kisses to her lips, punctuating the three words he wasn’t sure he could say aloud.

Her forehead fell slightly to rest against his as she tangled their fingers together. She shifted slightly between him and the door, squeezing his hand in reassurance as she put a step of distance between them. Jaime watched her take a step, their hands still linked. She blushed as she bit her lower lip, taking another step into the room. Brienne led them away from the door with confidence and grace and Jaime wondered how it was possible she could be so commanding and so gentle at the same time.

She was two steps ahead of him, her fingers still entwined with his, before he realized he wasn’t moving. He took a small step forward but stopped again, struck by the sight of her in the firelight. Her hair was still wet from the storm, but she looked taller than he remembered. Certainly taller than she’d looked when she first arrived. Her clothes clung to her and Jaime’s stomach tightened at the thought of tasting every inch of what was beneath. Her legs went on for _miles_.

He’d thought about this moment since Harrenhal, but it was all different now. Before he had been blinded by lust – a boyish curiosity mixed with primal desire. Jaime had plenty of time to daydream, and she had a way of occupying his thoughts. Most days he pictured himself fighting alongside her or watching her train squires in the yards. Some days he dreamed about he could win an inevitable argument, or of new ways to get under her skin. Twice he had dreamed about what her hair might look like caught in a sea breeze on Tarth. Once a tiny mess of blonde curls and deep blue eyes, wailing in his arms.

The nighttime thoughts were different but always the same – her long legs wrapped around his back, his name barely a whisper on her lips.

She wanted to squirm under his gaze but instead found herself feeling something entirely different than embarrassment. She felt… taller. She couldn’t quite determine what that other feeling was, only that it seemed to radiate from low in her belly. He was looking at her in a way she’d long thought no one else would. She wasn’t sure of what he saw in her, but she knew what there was in him.

He was beautiful, but it was more than the square jaw and sturdy shoulders. She’d watched him change – watched as his honor shined through blind loyalty. He would always be a Lannister, but he was also a true knight. A defender of the innocents. An honorable man. She knew he would fight on the right side of justice, and she wanted to fight beside him when that day came.

Tonight, he stood before her in tattered silk, hair falling over his forehead and darkness in his eyes.

She almost died today. Part of her had hoped she would, had she failed. The mercenary had already taken her world from her and since that day Brienne had never allowed herself to care for anything, or anyone. People died all the time. The people we loved the most. _Why bother loving if they always die?_

She went in search of death and found life instead.

Life stood before her.

Life followed her as she took another four steps backwards, the back of her calves meeting the bed.

Brienne pulled him to the bed with her gently, holding on to his shoulders as he lowered himself to the bed above her. Jaime paused for a moment, resting above her on his elbows, suddenly terrified. He’d never done this before.

He’d never been with anyone but – _her_. Jaime barely allow himself to even think of her name in most occasions, but certainly would _not_ let her come to bed with him and the woman he now loved. He’d loved her too at some point, he supposed, but not like this.

Nothing was like this.

He lingered above her, elbows pushing into the bed, and closed his eyes. What if he screwed this up? What if she woke up in the next morning, realizing she never should’ve trusted him? What if he’s not enough? _What if_ – Jaime felt dizzy.

A hand came to his face and broad fingers scraped through stubble. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft and low. “Where’d you go?”

He opened his eyes to find her beaming up at him. He stared into the deep blue of her eyes and she smiled sheepishly, blushing as her hand traced a line to his forehead and brushed the hairs away from it. Jaime turned into her palm and her smile widened. She remained still under him, tentative but present, waiting for him to fully return from wherever his mind had gone. After all, she’d been the one to storm in on him, she owed him the favor of backing out if he wanted to.

“Where’d you go?” She repeated softly, her other hand gently resting near his elbow. The answer didn’t matter, she supposed, as long as he was going to come back.

Jaime lowered himself to her slowly. Painfully slowly. A strangled moan escaped her lips as Jaime’s chest met hers and he couldn’t help but grin at the fact that Brienne of Tarth moans in bed. He had almost formed a witty retort – something about not being able to support his crippled, old frame – but the thought disappeared almost immediately.

She rose off the bed to kiss him again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him to her, wanting to feel all of his weight against her again. Brienne was reminded then of how strong he was – a knight since he was a teenager and training since then, sure, but the muscles in his arms told the rest of his story. His shoulders danced under her fingers as his tongue slid against hers.

Jaime kissed the freckles of her neck again, and Brienne tipped her head back invitingly. The brush of stubble against her jaw sending shivers down her spine and heat through her veins. She arched her back and gasped as he nipped at a particularly soft spot near her ear. He did it again and felt her nails dig into his shoulders. Jaime’s lips turned upwards against her neck.

“You had better not be smirking,” she said, her eyes still closed. Her voice was low and smooth, and Jaime wondered if he’d ever be listen to her properly again now that he’d heard what she sounded like horizontally. He grinned proudly and lifted his face to meet hers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said before placing a smacking kiss at the corner of her mouth.

He couldn’t have dreamed that Brienne of Tarth would be playful in bed. He expected her to be timid, he knew she’d be domineering, but playful had never crossed his mind.

She smacked his arm slightly as he laughed, and Brienne’s eyes darkened as she reached towards his hips, finding the edge of his tunic. She pushed the fabric up towards his back and Jaime gasped as she ran her fingers dangerously close to the curve of his ass. _Two can play at that game_ , she thought, grinning up at him.

He pushed himself up to his knees, and to his surprise, Brienne followed. She rose to her elbows then fully upright, her chest only inches from his. Her hands grabbed edge of his tunic, eyes never leaving his, and Jaime reached his arms above his head in a futile attempt to help as she pulled the fabric up over his head. Brienne let the tunic fall to the side of the bed, discarded, and turned her attention back to the now shirtless Jaime Lannister breathing heavily before her.

Her eyes roamed over his chest. She’d seen it before, but never allowed herself to fully look. Twice in a training yard when he’d claimed it was _too hot for armor_. Once accidentally, when she’d interrupted his dressing. And of course, Harrenhal. _Half a god_ , she’d thought then.

More than half.

Her hands hardly shook as she found his shoulders, pushing them down slightly so he relaxed back against her thighs. His chest raised and lowered rhythmically with his breathing, and Brienne’s large hands covered the broad expanse. She lifted a hand slightly and traced the edge of a healed scar and a fresh bruise before wrapping a light-blonde hair around her finger. She could feel his hum against her hand and her breath caught.

Jaime wrapped a hand around her waist, under the damp tunic. _How was she still wearing these clothes?_ He had intended to get it off in one motion but found his hand lingering just above her hip, momentarily fascinated by the contrast of pointed bone, firm muscle, and soft skin. His stump moved to her back and pushed the fabric farther up and Jaime desperately hoped she would get the hint and lift the tunic herself.

She did.

Her long arms reached above her head, finding the fabric near her shoulders. She pulled it over her head in a single motion and tossed it towards where his lay on the floor. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jaime swore as Brienne pushed her hair back to her head. Of course Brienne of Tarth removed her clothes the same way the other soldiers did. Only he hadn’t expected just what exactly it did to _him_.

A wave of scarlet crept up her now-exposed chest, partly from his expression and partly because his eyes were on her. All of her.

Not only his eyes.

Jaime’s hand moved to her hips, up her stomach, towards her ribs. His stump rested on her other hip and Brienne found herself grateful for the reassuring presence, strangely comforted by the thought of him on her bare skin. She flinched slightly as his hand reached the spot where the mercenary had kicked her down just hours ago. Jaime took notice and lingered for a moment, and she eased back towards his touch, urging him continue upwards.

Her entire breast fit beneath his palm.

Jaime had thought about this moment a lot, but he never imagined it would be real. Her heart thundered under his fingers and her chest arched slightly to meet his hand. It was small but the curve was unmistakable. She gasped as his thumb brushed her nipple, and Jaime covered her lips with his own.

His hand left her breast and found the breadth of her back and he pulled her tighter as he deepened the kiss. Her lips parted to allow him entry and her arms wrapped fully around his back. Her skin was still slightly damp from the rain, or slicked with sweat from the heat between them, she couldn’t tell. Either way, his chest was now too. She breathed him in and allowed herself to be lost completely beneath his lips.

A groan escaped his throat as she pulled him back to the bed above her, their lips never parting. Brienne had never imagined kissing to be like this – like a _dance_. A battle for power, certainly, but that would come later. If it were a battle, he was certainly winning. Brienne almost huffed a laugh at that, knowing he would be insistent on reminding her what he _could_ do to her every time they she bested him with her sword. She stifled the laughter and pushed her tongue deeper into his mouth and swallowed the moan that came from his throat.

For now, this was a waltz. Lips in rhythmic balance, tongues rolling together, hands meeting hands, fleeting moments of power and submission. Her septa had told her that only whores enjoyed pleasures like this, and Brienne felt a burn in her stomach at the thought of there being even _more_ than just this.

Jaime’s lips covered her collarbone and he moved his hand over her belly, the firm muscles underneath twitched slightly as his teeth brushed back up her jaw. He met her eyes as he reached the laces of her breeches, the pad of his middle finger slightly below the fabric. His mouth opened, ready to ask permission, but the words died on his tongue as her right hand brushed over his, untangling the knots she’d tied this morning.

He loosened the laces and she raised her hips slightly, allowing him to fully remove both layers from her. He moved slowly, his one had less efficient than two, but he allowed himself to savor this moment. He peeled the loose fabric from her waist, down her thighs, past her knees and ankles. He tossed it off the bed, not looking to see where it landed, and Brienne watched his jaw slacken when his eyes returned to her.

Jaime Lannister was a leg man, and she was _all legs_.

She shifted slightly, unsure of what to do next. He was so far away and she felt on display. Every bruise, every scar, every pointed edge and hardened inch of her was visible. She reached for the sheet on the bed, suddenly wanting to cover herself somehow, remembering that no one would ever want to look at her with care much less desire, but then his mouth was on her thigh and nothing else mattered.

Jaime’s mouth was hot against her freckled skin. She moaned at his deliberate brush of stubble against her inner thigh because _fuck, he was definitely smirking_ and opened her legs further, his hand splayed on her other thigh. Her hands fisted in the sheets and her back rose off the bed as his tongue moved upward. Her skin burned under his touches.

Jaime eased her legs open with this other arm and smiled. He’d half expected her to hit him again as he brushed his stubble against her but instead she’d just opened further. His hand moved slowly up her thigh and his stump came to rest on her hip. She bucked off the bed and gasped as his fingers ran over the slick folds between her legs. Brienne’s eyes widened and she looked down at him, his eyes nearly hidden from view as he lay between her legs.

She’d heard about this before – the soldiers in the camp had a terrible habit of telling dirty stories – but she never thought it could feel good. Or that anyone would want to do it. Or that anyone would want to do it to _her_. Or that anyone would want to do it to _her_ and that it could feel _this good_.

Jaime lowered his chin slowly and kissed the skin just below the hair. His tongue traced the edges of her as his fingers slipped inside – one at first, then two. A low noise escaped her throat, primal and guttural, and Jaime's cock twitched again. He licked and kissed and her hips raised off the bed as he took the sensitive nub between his teeth. His fingers curled inside her and she groaned again. Brienne brought a hand to the back of his head, holding him firmly in place. Her fingers tangled in the curls and her head tilted back as his fingers and tongue set her afire.

“Jaime… _fuck_ ,” her back left the bed and she burned with arousal. His tongue was doing dangerous things to her and her mind was entirely blank. If her hand wasn’t buried in his hair she would have sworn that she was dreaming. Nothing earthly could have felt this good.

Jaime put a third finger inside and Brienne swore she saw stars behind her eyelids. Her breath was coming in short bursts now, the fire in her stomach white hot. Jaime’s tongue worked over her clit and his fingers stroked inside, pushing and pulling her farther towards her peak. Every muscle in her body tensed and her thighs squeezed around his head and Gods, if his stump hadn’t been holding her thigh down Brienne was certain she would have suffocated him between her legs.

He felt her breathing quicken and stop for a moment as her back left the bed, her climax crashing through her in waves. Jaime’s fingers stilled as she clenched around him and his tongue remained buried deep between her legs. She groaned, the same guttural noise as before only _louder_ , as a second wave of pleasure shook her, and Jaime vowed he was going to spend every day for the rest of his life hearing that noise.

Her breaths deepened and she trembled as Jaime licked the wetness from between her legs. She tasted like rain and sweat and honey and _life_. Brienne’s eyes opened as she felt him shift up the bed, the front of his knee meeting her calves as he moved towards her. Sweat glistened on her brow and the blood burned just below her skin.

“Okay?” He asked tentatively. She _was_ still a maiden and Jaime worried that maybe three fingers hadn’t been the best way to ease her into things. She softened beneath his gaze and she huffed a laugh, trembling one more time against her will as his chest hair brushed over her sensitive breast. She looked at him and Jaime felt an unfamiliar wave of pleasure in his chest when he looked into the deep blue below.

“ _Jaime_ ,” she breathed. “I never – fuck. I never knew I could feel like _that_.”

Jaime grinned. “Good,” he laughed against her jaw. Brienne sighed at the touch, ignoring his laughter, then frowned slightly. _How the fuck was he still wearing clothes?_

A wave of confidence overtook her and Brienne didn’t question it. He had kissed away any doubts for tonight, tasting every inch of her, giving her pleasure, and laughing against her skin. She’d enjoyed it, more than she ever thought she could, but Brienne felt a desire to leave _him_ breathless and watch as _his_ back left the bed. Arousal burned in her stomach and her instincts guided her next motions. She raised her leg around his hips and brought her hands around his shoulders, and in one smooth motion flipped them over.

Jaime grunted as his back met the bed, suddenly unable to move under her weight. Her hips rolled against his and her arms held his to the bed, and Brienne watched as his mouth closed tightly.

She made a mental note that this was one good way to get him to just shut his mouth.

Though, she had just found out that there was at least one _very good_ use for his mouth.

Now he was silent and looking at her with dark eyes and she could feel him under her – all of him. Brienne didn’t quite know what to do next except get those _damn breeches_ off of him.

Brienne reached for the laces of his breeches and he hissed quietly as she stroked him over the thin fabric. He had been hard since she first kissed him and his muscles tensed under her hands. Jaime was already reciting the ingredients of every recipe he knew – his usual way of willing himself to last longer – but it was no use because _Brienne of Tarth_ was _sitting on his legs_ and _taking his breeches off_.

She moved confidently, tugging the silk down and off his ankles. She tossed them behind her and turned back to his _finally_ naked body under her. Jaime felt her warm wetness on his thigh as she moved. His cock twitched under her gaze and Brienne blushed at the sight of him. He was wanting for _her_.

She hesitated for a moment after wrapping a large hand around his base, feeling the rough curls below. She stroked upwards once and Jaime’s hips followed, thrusting to follow her hands. He groaned and slammed his eyes shut, slightly embarrassed at how easily she could turn him inside out, and Jaime heard her let out a breath at his body’s response. How could he be putting her at ease while she was making him _painfully_ hard?

Brienne stroked him again and his fingers dug into the curve of her ass. He loved her legs but the firm muscles of her ass and the dimples in the center of her back were driving him crazy. She sucked in a breath and moved his cock towards her. His eyes shot open as he felt a pool of warm liquid at his tip and he watched her eyes as she lowered herself around him.

She was warm and wet and he could feel _all of her_. Jaime slammed his eyes shut and pushed his hips farther into the bed. He desperately wanted to thrust into her, hard and fast, until he lost track of time and space and the only thing that mattered was _her_ and _them_ and _life_ – but he wanted even more to last more than twenty seconds. He swore under her and opened his eyes to watch all of this and commit it to memory.

She moved slowly, adjusting to the feeling of him inside her. _He was inside her_. Her wetness coated his length and eased her motions. It was uncomfortable, sure, but Brienne wouldn’t call it painful at all. She felt the familiar low heat grow in her stomach as she moved, rocking against him slightly and _oh_ – that was it. She let out a breathy moan and canted her hips back, the tip of his cock pressing deeper.

Jaime groaned as she rocked against him, forwards and backwards rather than up and down, and her head fell forwards. Brienne lowered her chest to his, suddenly wanting to taste him and touch him and _feel him_ , and kissed him firmly. Jaime’s hips left the bed, pushing even deeper into her, and Brienne bit his lip as he filled her completely.

“Jaime,” She said, his name barely a whisper. “ _Do that again_.”

He moaned against her mouth as he thrust into her. Her hips canted against his, matching his rhythm. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she moaned against him, pleasure radiating through every inch of her. His lips sucked at her collarbone and the scars he found there and Brienne felt her breathing quickening and her muscles tense.

“Jaime,”

Every inch of her was screaming as her knees dug into the bed. Jaime’s breath was hot and fast as he breathed against her skin, his fingers gripped her thigh. “ _Brienne_ ,” He breathed against her skin. “Gods, _Brienne_ , I’m – ”

_Fuck._

Jaime thrust into her and she cried out – a strangled sob filling the silence as she clenched around him. Jaime groaned against her neck and spilled himself inside her, his cock twitching with her every motion, and he pushed her hips down against his one final time. Her chest heaved and he shut his eyes as his cock softened inside her and Jaime was certain he’d lost all blood flow to his legs at this point.

She relaxed against him slightly, still filled with him, and reached for his hand. She tangled his fingers with his own and brought them towards her chest, and Jaime found himself smiling up at her. A real, pure, genuine smile.

He couldn’t remember the last time he truly smiled.

She moved off of him then, her legs sticky and wet, and lay on her back next to him, their hands still clasped by her side. She was smiling too.

Jaime got up off the bed after a moment, astonished by his incredulous ability to even move much less walk. He retrieved a damp towel and laid another log on the fire before turning to face her again. She was resting on her elbow and was staring up at him like nothing he’d ever seen before and Jaime felt his heart swell. He almost felt whole again.

“For you, my lady” he said as he handed her the towel, nodding towards her middle. He watched as she wiped the evidence of _them_ from between her legs, and Jaime wondered if nine months from now their lives would be entirely different in the best possible way. Rain still poured outside and the fresh log cracked in the hearth.

Brienne moved the towel away and laid back down on the bed. She stared at the ceiling and attempted to process the day. Her mind had been blissfully blank for the past _who knows how long_ but the pain in her body persisted. Her legs were still damp from the towel, her ribs still bruised from the mercenary, and her body now ached in the best kind of way. A few fresh bruises were sure to develop on her thigh and her ass, perfectly matching his fingerprints. Had she really just lost her maidenhead to _Ser Jaime Lannister_?

Jaime brought her hand it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles gently. He was beaming at her like she’d just given him the world and she still couldn’t believe any of this was real and not some fever dream. Her hand ran over his stubble and through his hair to will herself back to reality, and Jaime turned to kiss the soft skin below her wrist. She moved towards him and his arm snaked around her shoulders, holding her tight as her head came to rest on his chest. He felt her breath hitch and a tear fall and Jaime nudged her face upwards.

“Hey,” he said softly. “None of that.”

She huffed a laugh and hit his chest before brushing the tears away. Jaime smiled with relief and relaxed under her.

_Could this be the first time she’d cried tears of joy?_

He pressed a long kiss to her brow and she draped her arm across his body. She could feel his chest raise and lower with every breath he took.

She’d gone in search of death today, but found life instead. 

“Jaime,” she shifted above him and looked into the deep emerald of his eyes as she spoke. “I love you. I have since, well, who knows when, but a long time. Years.” Her words flowed freely and effortlessly as she moved a hand back to his hair. “I love you.”

He lay still as the words crashed over him and Jaime’s heart soared. He stared into her eyes until his vision blurred and his eyes burned with tears. He could see a lifetime in them. He rolled over her, pressing her into the bed again, and put his lips on hers, words suddenly failing him. Everything was clumsy – neither could seem to keep from smiling long enough to properly do anything.

“Good,” he sighed. “Because you’re stuck with me for the rest of my life, wench." His words were strong between his kisses. "I’m yours, Brienne. All yours. _Hopelessly_ yours. Always yours.”

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> There's no denying that this was entirely inspired by my first true tv love story, but with some obvious adaptations and plenty of personal headcanons (including but not limited to: Jaime's inner monologue always refering to her as Brienne of Tarth, Brienne's fixation with Jaime's hair(s), and Jaime Lannister as a Leg Man through and through).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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